


I Will Find You Again.  I Promise.

by Sprocketgasmask, TilTheEndOfTheLinePal



Series: I Will Find You Again. I Promise. [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Cigarettes, Drinking, F/M, Feels, Guns, Homelessness, Hydra (Marvel), Memory Loss, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Shameless Smut, Smut, Suspense, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2510105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sprocketgasmask/pseuds/Sprocketgasmask, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TilTheEndOfTheLinePal/pseuds/TilTheEndOfTheLinePal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To fuck or not to fuck, that was such a stupid question to ponder in the first place. One that had her cheeks flushed again and not from the steam floating around the shower stall.</p><p>This was Bucky-- scratch that!  This was James Buchanan Barnes! Fuckin’ Sergeant."</p><p>Every comic book fan fantasizes about their hero coming to life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Find You Again.  I Promise.

**Author's Note:**

> This is Part 1 in a collaborative series between Sprocketgasmask and TilTheEndOfTheLinePal. This is our first work together. This story was feverishly written in 4 days. Comments and kudos are much appreciated. Enjoy!

"I Will Find You Again. I Promise. "

By Sprocketgasmask and TilTheEndOfTheLinePal

**Bucky** 10/20/2014 TilTheEndOfTheLinePal

Dark, almost insane, eyes peered from below a blue baseball cap. The Winter Soldier intently stared at... himself. A mural at The Smithsonian in Washington, D.C. A 'Captain America' exhibit. Yes, there was the man from the bridge. The man Winter had beat to shit. The man that had fallen from the helicarrier. The man he had pulled from the Potomac. That star-spangled-son-of-a-bitch.

Winter studied his own image. James Buchanan Barnes, 1917-1944, 107th Division – The Howling Commandos, U.S. Army. He shook his head a little, one hand buried deep in his jacket pocket. Bucky memorized every detail, every word, as best as his stressed brain could handle.

There was no sneaking up on a hired, professional assassin. Even an assassin that was sort-of-kind-of on the run. In a way.

He felt her presence before literally seeing her. Shifting his gaze slightly, he studied her. Bucky bit his lower lip. Though the Smithsonian wasn't crowded that Sunday afternoon, she seemed somehow too close.

*********  
**Murphy** 10/21/2014 Sprocketgasmask

In all twenty plus years of her short-lived life, Murphy never really understood her obsession with two particularly fascinating comic book characters. James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers were not simple comic characters. They were 'Bucky' and good ol' Captain America. And, regardless of what hells she had managed in those years, they were the one constant in a world that never seemed to slow or pause.

Fellow peers and even classmates used to poke fun at her for the 'silly' little obsession. "I'm gunna marry one of them," she would say, more or less promise to herself, and 'they' would go on with the name calling and banter. "Get a grip,” her mother warned. It was simply impossible to pull men from pages and wish them into existence.

At least that's what 'they' said.

Now, inching closer to a display at a well-known museum, she wanted to cry.

Every locked emotion was threatening to spill, to suffocate. Murphy’s heart beat harshly as her hands shook, pale flesh growing wet with sweat.

Had it not been for the blaring music in her ears, she would have paid more attention to the figure standing right in front of where she was headed. Whoever they were, they were getting no attention whatsoever.

"You're real." Her words were much louder, the vibration unable to make it past 'I don't love you' as she was pulled back into her own world. A world where this meeting involved two sound bodies and welcoming arms.

'So fix your eyes and get out...baby, get out. While you can'

Pain blossomed - emotional pain pent up from years of rejection and the need to simply belong.

'When you go, would you have the guts to say, I don't love you, like I loved you yesterday'

Murphy’s ear buds clattered to the floor and her phone bounced as she snatched at the cords and everything followed suit with the exception of her used backpack, holding the minimal worldly goods, and the skateboard carefully corded to the back. Honestly, the girl had forgotten about them, too lost in her own head.

Had there been a security guard standing around, they surely would have kicked her out. The ear phones were detached and the song had slid around to yet another track. Julie London. 'How deep is the ocean'. A beautiful classic from her heroes' time.

It played at near top volume and she was standing on tip toes to touch a photograph blown up many sizes above the original.

The girl was a wreck at this point. Too many years of being told things that just weren't true. Too many nights of wishing, only to find that they were real and long gone. At least Bucky was.

The very tips of her fingers slid along the polished picture, heart stuttering. If only she could touch the real deal. Then again, Bucky was a real good looker and if men then were like they were these days, he surely wouldn't have given her a second glance. Blue eyes managed to pry from their place at the well-placed item and she remembered where she was. The flush was showing so brightly, embarrassment evident in her actions.

"Sorry," she muttered to the figure, reaching around to gather her items and stop the music. "Ma said she couldn't take me anywhere as a child." A poor attempt to cut her own awkward moment.

*******

**Bucky** TilTheEndOfTheLinePal 10/21/2014

The Winter Soldier didn't help people. The Winter Soldier was a ruthless, cold asset of HYDRA. He wasn't a person. He was calculated, cruel, heartless, and emotionless.

So, why did he bother to stoop down to pick up a random stranger's cell phone?

Bucky's metallic, robotic hand was never as dexterous as his normal, flesh hand, but he was unable to move his regular arm. Captain America, desperate to save the world, had broken Bucky's arm; his shoulder had been violently dislocated with a gross, audible ‘crack’. His normal arm hung at his side, immobile, causing him a world of hurt.

Uncharacteristically not thinking things through, Bucky stooped down and reached for the dropped, blaring cell phone. It took him a couple of frustrating tries, but he managed to pick it up with his metal hand. Still in a crouched position, he held the phone out to Murphy, though he still hid his face under his baseball cap, refusing to make eye contact with her.

Bucky muttered a phrase in Russian.

"What?" Murphy asked, bewildered. Noting the strange metal hand, she hesitated to take the phone, but managed to grasp it anyway. 

Bucky realized he had been speaking Russian. He flipped to his Brooklyn accent. "Shit. I'm sorry. I said, 'Don't worry 'bout it. Everyone drops stuff'."

A fierce pang of dread, mixed with surprise and fear, coursed through his stomach as Bucky noticed a familiar HYDRA agent walking purposefully through the Smithsonian exhibit. So, they were looking for him after all. The Winter Soldier had been scheduled to return to the HYDRA compound exactly 45 minutes ago. He had been sent out on a mission, but he had decided to carefully hide his assault rifle behind the museum, ignoring his assignment, to check out the 'Captain America' exhibit. Bucky was still armed to the teeth, however. He was packing two handguns, a couple of small explosives, and a knife.

Thinking fast, Bucky rose again, leaned down a little, and planted a kiss right on Murphy's lips. It was true, though - 'Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable'.

The Winter Soldier fervently hoped the HYDRA agent would keep on walking, never suspecting that Sergeant Winter would be the lip-locked man next to the ‘Bucky Barnes’ display. Bucky’s thoughts melted away, however, as he tasted an interesting, bitter mix of cigarettes and mint from Murphy's lips. 

More than a little lost, Bucky deepened the long, slow kiss, his nostrils taking in a combined fragrance of cigarette smoke, dirt, and oranges.

****

**Murphy** Sprocketgasmask 10/21/2014

Shocked. If her brain were able to even push out a coherent thought, it would be that her body was in shock.

And the fact that her fairly expensive cell phone was now broken, screen cracked, colors already blending into a funky explosion of rainbow, now was completely lost to soft lips.

Sparks. Electricity. Explosive little tingles that had the skin on her pale face too tight. Body felt too big for the skin suit.

'Fuckfuckfuckfuck' that word was repeated, the only bit of her conscious mind throwing out the curse like a prayer. Those bright blues literally rolled until the whites of her eyes shown so brightly under a thick line of black lashes.

She was lost, drowning like a sailor pulled by the kraken. The thick waters filled her abused lungs and she couldn't help but to moan softly, full lips parting so that her warm breath ran along a now moist mouth.

The reality of the situation was that she was getting kissed by a complete stranger, and it wasn't even a full on 'wham bam thank you ma'am' type of smooch either. It was innocent and she wasn't used to soft.

There was a strong reasoning for years of one-nighters and even less men than women pulled to a scratchy, cheap motel blanket.

Murphy longed for companionship, and not that of your average human being. She wanted the stuff made of fantasies. The shit that young women dreamed of when they hit puberty.

In all honesty, if this were some back alley, she would have proposed something more. Murphy had been lonely for too long and being that her mind was already stuck on those two soldiers, this helped play out her fantasy.

Even though this hadn't been going on for a full minute, let alone thirty seconds, she was already feeling weak and had to reach up to grasp at shoulders that felt too bulky to be a woman.

*******  
**Bucky** TilTheEndOfTheLinePal 10/21/14

Utterly and hopelessly lost in the deep kiss, Bucky also moaned in the back of his throat. He couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed anyone, but he had a distant, vague notion in his mind that, at some point in his life, he must have been in love, right? Maybe?

The second Murphy’s hands reached his shoulders, Bucky abruptly broke the kiss, gasped, and involuntarily whimpered a little. It was a strange, simultaneous sensation. His left shoulder was always so sensitive where metal met flesh and his right shoulder was completely jacked up and injured. In a fair amount of pain, Bucky took a small step back, clumsily ruining the entire moment.

Swallowing hard, Bucky did a quick assessment of his surroundings. The HYDRA agent must have moved on. However, the saying goes – ‘Cut off one head, two more shall… ’ With the exception of The Winter Soldier, HYDRA agents rarely traveled alone. ‘There’s probably another one of those fuckers around here somewhere’, Bucky silently thought.

Murphy, her heart racing uncontrollably, uttered a fake cough, once again catching Bucky’s attention. 

“Oh,” Bucky stammered, suddenly acutely and awkwardly aware of Murphy’s presence again. He blushed, negating all sense of being a bad-ass assassin. “I, uh… I… thought you were someone else… ” 

Bucky internally reasoned that there were two ways this was going to go. One, she could slap him across the face. The soldier sure as hell deserved it. Or, two… Wait. Bucky paused. Where the hell could this go? 

*****  
**Murphy** Sprocketgasmask 10/21/2014

Murph truly had not even an inkling of the dangers currently stalking around the museum. If she had been told about them, there was a 98% chance that the young woman wouldn't have believed the speaker to begin with. She was accustomed to certain dangers on the streets. Such as a crooked 'Pig', or even money hungry 'Rats'. This was the norm to her, which wasn't exactly the normal worries for many chicks her age. 

At the moment, however, the apology given by Mr. Softlips just wasn't going to even cut it. 

"Are you shittin' me?" she asked, rocking back onto the balls of her feet, worn shoes pulling tightly around her toes. How could any man go from...well, from THAT to 'I thought you were someone else’. 

"I call bullshit." She shot out shortly after, lips curling into a wicked little grin. More like that famous Sidney Vicious lip curl. Those already full lips were still flushed to a deeper shade of pink, pouting for the attention that had been taken away so abruptly. 

The audacity!

She bent at the waist, trying desperately to get a decent view of his face, unaware of the pain he was currently in. That gasp was mistaken for that of realization and not pain. The girl was a bit slow with some things. Then again, she had never actually been locking lips with a trained assassin. 

Reaching out yet again, Murphy hoped to rip that baseball cap clear off his head. "At least wine and dine me if you're going to sneak in and steal first base."

"Hey!" a deep voice echoed off the surrounding wall. "Cut that out." The security officer had a late response and that was pretty weird in itself. 

******  
**Bucky** TilTheEndOfTheLinePal 10/21/2014

“Fuck… ” Bucky mumbled, more at the security guard’s exclamation and the entire situation than at Murphy, though he managed to weave and duck his body so that she couldn’t reach his baseball cap. 

Really, he could kick himself. What the hell was he thinking, kissing a pretty dame like that? Sure, he needed to hide from HYDRA, but still… 

“Sorry, sir,” muttered Bucky to the security guard. The guard shook his head a little with a disapproving click of the tongue. Turning his attention back to Murphy, Bucky grasped her wrist with his metal hand and unceremoniously began to drag her towards a glass case near the ‘Bucky Barnes’ exhibit. 

“Hey! What the hell… Did you even listen to a word I said?” Murphy cried out incredulously, clearly peeved. Her time living on the streets had made her one tough cookie, and she pulled against the stranger. 

Bucky toggled the line between politeness and rudeness often. Reaching the glass case, he dropped Murphy’s wrist and pulled out a sizeable knife from the folds of his jacket, still only able to use the one hand. Bucky cut off Murphy’s nervous, surprised gasp with, “Hey. Be quiet for a sec, will ya? Keep an eye out for the guard.” 

“What the hell are you doing?” Murphy protested, her eyes wide with shock. 

Bucky began to pick at the lock securing the glass case. “Keep an eye out,” he repeated, concentrating hard on his crime. Inside the glass case were several World War II artifacts collected from Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, among them a canteen, a compass, a pack of cigarettes, a comb, and metal dog tags. Hearing the lock give a satisfying ‘click’, Bucky concealed his knife again and reached carefully into the case, only pulling out the dog tags, which read: 

 

JAMES B BARNES  
32557038 T42 43 A  
P

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Murphy hissed under her breath. She was, in fact, covering for the overtly rude stranger, but she also had an inclination to kick him in the knee and go alert the security guard. She wasn’t dumb; Murphy had no desire to be involved in some weirdo’s petty theft. 

Bucky glanced around nervously before pulling off his baseball cap. Having not seen any other HYDRA agents, he urgently pulled the dog tags over his head and tucked them underneath his black leather jacket before running his metal hand through his long brown hair, shaking it out. 

He paused suddenly, his body becoming as still as a stone. He held the back of his head, hand still embedded in that thick hair of his. Bucky took a good, long look at Murphy, similar blue eyes locking with hers. 

*******  
**Murphy** Sprocketgasmask 10/22/2014

Murphy’s heart stuttered, and had it not been for the rhythmic pounding at her temple, she would have sworn it stopped altogether. 

Realization, or was it hallucination, became evident in her too wide eyes. 

This man was utterly stunning, regardless of the too pale skin carefully molded around his tall frame.

A sharp intake of air, enough to actually burn at her abused lungs, sounded like a hiss as it slithered past swollen lips and clenched teeth. 

The next bit of movement was purely subconscious, for she was too far out of it to be conscious. 

A shaky hand reached to grasp a bit harshly at the collar of her faded shirt, only to yank down and nearly rip. Just along her jutting collar bone, in black ink, read 'Howling Commandos'.

This had to have been her silent confession. That she was in deep and the fact that this man locked lips without hesitation hadn't even been a thought. 

Well, just yet.

Without so much as a word, her hand pulled the collar along to the opposite side, showcasing even more dedication. 'Sergeant Barnes'.

"I need a fuckin' smoke." Her own voice seemed a bit higher pitched than normal, pure shock distorting her features, causing her eyes to look more like that of a porcelain doll. 

This was complete and utter brain overload. She was melting inside. 

***  
**Bucky** TilTheEndOfTheLinePal 10/22/2014

He simply forgot how to blink. 

His lips parting with a gentle, "Huh...," Bucky read Murphy's tattoos carefully. "That's..." He tried to move his right arm, to reach to touch the letters of his name, but injury prevented it. "That's me," Sergeant Barnes said distantly. "...Isn't it?" 

The HYDRA agent snuck up on both of them. Bucky sidestepped suddenly, missing a left roundhouse punch to his temple by inches. Before Murphy could so much as utter a sound of surprise, The Winter Soldier had whipped out one of his handguns and aimed it straight at the familiar HYDRA agent's head, metal finger already on the trigger.

"Back the fuck off," Bucky growled at the agent. 

The agent narrowed his eyes, in turn. "Can it, Soldier. We've got the place surrounded. You're coming with us..." The HYDRA agent eyed Murphy, too. "And, your little girlfriend is coming along." 

Bucky fired a shot into the air, which hit a light fixture high into the Smithsonian exhibition hall. Though the museum wasn't crowded that Sunday afternoon, fearful cries erupted from museum patrons. 

"Come on!" Bucky cried out to Murphy. "Let's go have that smoke." He pushed her towards one of the museum exits. 

Murphy and Bucky ran at full speed out of the museum. Bucky rushed the two of them into a taxi cab, commanding the driver to "*Just Drive*!" Thankfully, the taxi cab driver had a secret aspiration to be a NASCAR driver and took off so hard into traffic that Murphy and Bucky were thrown back against the car seat. As luck would have it, the taxi cab became lost in a sea of fellow cabs, thus hindering HYDRA's ability to track The Winter Soldier. 

"Oh, my god!" Murphy cried out hysterically. "What the fuck is going on?!" 

His eyes stinging with painful tears, Bucky holstered his weapon again. "Okay, first of all... Wait. Hold on. I can't fucking think... Here. You gotta put my shoulder back in place." 

"What?!" 

"Yeah, here. Grab my arm and pull as hard as you fucking can." 

"I can't...." 

"Do it!!" Bucky ordered through clenched teeth.

Trying not to think about it too much, Murphy obediently grasped the soldier's right arm with both hands, leaned as far back as she could, and pulled with all of her strength. Bucky's shoulder aligned again with a nasty audible 'pop'. 

"Oh, FUCK!!" Bucky cried out, his eyes shut tight. "UGH!" 

"What the hell is going on back there?!" the taxi cab driver bellowed, looking over his shoulder at them. He barely missed hitting another car. The driver of the other car hammered on their horn, tires squealing. 

"Keep your eyes on the fucking road!" exclaimed Bucky. He tentatively opened and closed his normal hand a few times. Relieved, though still in maddening pain, he declared to Murphy urgently, "Alright. Look. I don't even know your name, but I need two things. Listen carefully. One, I need to get drunk. Or high. Or both. I'm in so much fucking pain. And, two, I need to hide. A place to sleep tonight, and I'll be gone in the morning. Can you help me? Please?" 

******

**Murphy** Sprocketgasmask 10/22/2014

What he was asking, considering the past fifteen minutes, would have been crossing the line for a normal human being. 

Not once had any person walking the face of the planet ever accused Murphy of being normal.

She pushed her body back, pressing firmly into the door, hand following soon after to click the lock into place. Sitting sideways, one leg bent at the knee and rested on the bench seat. The other hung carelessly to the floor. Retrieving her smokes from a side pocket in her jeans, lighter stuffed into the pack, she sighed aloud. 

"I guess I can do that for you. Haven't really had any rum in a good while. I've got enough money stashed away to cover a cheap motel room for one night and to get what you want. Might even have enough leftover to eat. I can go a few days without, and you're injured. So, you eat, we'll get shitty,” Murphy said. 

By this time, the flame from her lighter was burning the end of the cigarette paper. Murphy took in enough to sting and it would have been a lie had she not enjoyed it. With every bit of adrenaline keeping her heart sped up and moisture clinging to her eyebrows, she needed the nicotine. Blowing the smoke towards the low ceiling, she nearly choked at her own frantic thoughts. This was the man who had managed to snag her up from a comic book. And he had kissed her, seemed to enjoy it even. 

Deciding to push her luck, as was usual with Murphy, a thought came to life and spilled from her lips. "I'll be your nice girl and do whatever you need. Fuck, I'll follow you until my feet are blistered and then I'll even push harder." Her brows rose, cheeks flushing softly. "You finish what you started and I'll be so good to you, Bucky."

The chick had brass balls, and possibly a death wish.

But hey, she may never see him again and there was no way this was going to slip through her grip. 

********

***Bucky*** TilTheEndOfTheLinePal 10/22/2014

Sergeant Barnes didn't bother to hide the surprised look on his face upon hearing Murphy tell him that she'd 'be so good to' him. Eyebrows raised, Bucky deftly plucked the cigarette from Murphy's fingers, took a long drag, and passed the cig back to her. Exhaling the smoke slowly through pursed lips, he said in his Brooklyn drawl, "Hey, yeah... thanks... uh..." He searched for her name.

"Murphy," she stated simply.

"Murphy," he repeated, liking the way her name rolled off his tongue. Bucky tapped the glass partially separating them and the driver. "Hey, swing up Parliament Avenue," he told the driver. "There's a liquor store I want to stop at before finding a motel. Any motel." 

"Whatever, man," the taxi cab driver responded with an apathetic shrug. He turned the steering wheel to the right.

Bucky closed his eyes for a short moment as his body worked to dump the shock of adrenaline coursing through his veins. A little lightheaded, Bucky found comfort in holding his dog tags in his right hand. Touch meant a hell of a lot to him and his mind focused only on the feel of the metal in his hand. 

"Rum, huh?" he finally said, trying to sound casual even though the entire situation was blatantly out of control. "I'm more of a vodka kind of guy. Used to live in Russia. They make vodka out of anything. Potatoes, fruit, sugar." 

Bucky's blue eyes opened again, though he wasn't able to make eye contact with Murphy. He was never able to make eye contact with anyone, especially after his father's suicide. 

The taxi cab came to a surprisingly gentle stop. "Alright, man," the driver said to Bucky. "Here's your liquor store. I'm gonna keep the meter running, though." 

"Don't worry," Bucky assured the driver. The Winter Soldier discreetly handed Murphy $300 in cash, all twenties. "It'll just be a sec." 

*******  
**Murphy** Sprocketgasmask 10/22/2014

After having to baste in her own funk for nearly two days, a shower was all it took to turn any frown upside for Murph. The water was turned to damn near scalding and she was positive there would be no regret in the sting later on. Wiping at the fogged mirror with a dry washcloth, Murphy watched as her image began to shine through clearly.

Her hair was a bit messy, damp, and slicked back so she looked as though that old hair product 'brylcreem' was still just as popular. With all the grime and dirt, the shade was actually a bit lighter. Dark brown with hints of blonde shown through so brightly with the intense bathroom lighting. Her skin was much paler, only showing the smallest trace of an old tan, deep brown freckles popping up along her hair line and cheek. Those eyes were so much brighter than before, having no real mess to hold their shine back.

For the first time in a while, Murphy was clean and smelled of motel bar soap. It was nice.

Having pulled a pair of black shorts, short enough to show a detailed gas mask tattoo on her right thigh, from her old bag and a gray tank top along for the ride, she was positively ready for a drink.

As was usual, there were no undergarments, save for a small neon green bra. It was much easier to strut in dirty pants, with all of the free space, than to have material bunching around your ass because of too much sweat. 

Her teeth were brushed with a plastic-wrapped courtesy toothbrush and a small tube of mint paste retrieved from her own personal stash. 

Heaven, this was what heaven felt like. Wiping the floor with the damp towel, hair falling around to frame her face, Murphy began to think on her upcoming adventure.

To fuck or not to fuck, that was such a stupid question to ponder in the first place. One that had her cheeks flushed again and not from the steam floating around the shower stall.

This was Bucky-- scratch that! This was James Buchanan Barnes! Fuckin’ Sergeant.

Murphy left the bathroom as clean as it was when she entered. She stepped out of the bathroom, off the tile floor, and her feet made contact with worn carpet. The kind that still looked and felt as though it had never been ripped up. The establishment boasted about its forty years of going solid. Bleh.

Coming out into the main area, a soft moan sounded and she couldn't even look in the soldier’s direction after having something like THAT pop from her lips. 

Their bounty lay scattered across an old table. One that was large enough to have two chairs fit nicely underneath. 

One very expensive bottle of vodka, something she couldn't even pronounce, and a gleaming handle of Sailor Jerry's. What was Sailor Jerry's? 

Only the beat damned thing created for broke alcoholics since mouthwash!

Ninety-two proof, room temperature, and a beautiful woman who appeared only after draining half of its contents. 

"Let's do the deed." She called over her shoulder, pulling a chair free, snatching up an unopened pack of Marlboros. To be so broke, Murphy had an expensive taste in smokes. It was one of the few luxuries she allowed to herself. That and coffee.

Her knee bumped a leg and it sent sparks flying behind her eyes. 

Bucky wasn't the only Hero she paid homage to. Just covering the right knee cap was a very detailed, newly tattooed, Captain America shield. 

Who said he had to choose back then anyway?

********

**Bucky** TilTheEndOfTheLinePal 10/22/2014

The problem with being a highly-skilled, highly-trained assassin was noticing *everything*. The Winter Soldier did, in fact, study every detail that Murphy put forth. The sound of her voice, her tattoos, the way she walked, the way she smelled, the way she looked at him... While Murphy had been showering, Bucky had shamelessly gone through all of her stuff, though he carefully packed up everything to look as if it had been undisturbed. 

"You took so damn long in the bathroom that I already started without you," Sergeant Barnes stated bluntly, knocking back his fifth shot of the overpriced vodka. He uncapped the Sailor Jerry’s rum and poured Murphy a shot. The shot glasses were cheap and boasted the logo of the liquor store they had bought them from. 

Before Murphy could say anything in return, Bucky explained, "Look, the less you know about me, the better. Those guys that were after me - they know your face, alright, so you need to lay low for a while. That's all I gotta say 'bout that." 

Bucky could tell from the look on Murphy's face that she was disappointed that he was still completely dressed; the soldier hadn't even taken off his leather jacket and, given the steam from the shower, the room was getting rather hot. It was springtime in Washington, D.C., and it had been an uncharacteristically warm day. Bucky was sweating under his clothes, but was keenly aware of the one gun holstered in the small of his back, the other gun tucked under his normal arm. When he leaned back in his chair, he could feel the gun pressing against his flesh. 

The second Murphy slammed down her drained shot glass, Bucky rapidly stood, grabbed Murphy's grey tank top with his metal fist, pulled her up, and forced her into the nearest corner of the cheap motel room. The soldier grasped both of her wrists with his normal hand and pinned her arms above her head. He stared into her eyes momentarily, then slowly ran his tongue down the side of her neck. He trailed his cold metal hand down her body, then up between her legs, pausing at her short shorts. 

"You wanna tell me why you have my name tattooed on you? Hmm?" he mumbled against her ear, Bucky's breath as hot as hell. "How the hell do you know who I am?" 

****  
**Murphy** Sprocketgasmask 10/22/2014  
Everything happened so quickly that poor Murphy could have sworn the alcohol was laced. This all felt like one big hallucination. One moment, she was feeling the burn of her rum. The seconds that followed found her in a position that felt like something straight out of fantasy. 

There was more than one reasoning behind her drinking ninety-two proof liquor at room temperature. First off, it didn't taste like frozen shit. Secondly, and her absolute favorite part, was that it hit the system in less than two minutes. 

Now, Murphy had a damned big mouth and heavy gonads to push her into action. She had only managed a handful of folks to see her through the threats; no one really wanted to fuck with a punk girl sporting a Hitler youth hair cut. She hit like a man, bony knuckles and all. If you were going to take the world alone, you sure as hell had better fight like a drowning cat. All claws and fangs.

That liquid fire burned a steady trail from throat to gut, spreading out like a blanket of warmth. Murphy couldn't help that her brain was already fogging and her chest was heaving heavily. 

She also couldn't help the gasp of complete surprise that came as the super soldier tasted her skin. Who knew a wet muscle could be so fucking erotic?

His words were processed slowly, the need for a smoke trying to take over the rapidly growing anxiety of it all. 

Then, as if a switch was flipped in her mushy brains, Murphy’s thought-to-words filter died and she even shocked herself. "Were you this fuckin' kinky in the forties?" She wasn't a submissive gal, and he couldn't be serious about shoving her into this particular situation and expect anything less.  
*****

**Bucky** TilTheEndOfTheLinePal 10/22/2014

Bucky had no clue what kind of lover he had been in the forties. At the moment, he only had a rudimentary understanding of who he was. Earlier, when Murphy had been showering, he had flipped through a couple of Captain America comic books found in her worn out backpack. According to the comics, Bucky Barnes was Cap’s sidekick.

Yeah. Fucking. Right. ‘I saved his ass over and over again,’ Bucky thought.

Bucky’s only response to Murphy’s kinky question was a low, feral growl from the back of his throat. He still desperately wanted to know why the fuck his name and his Army unit was tattooed on her collarbone. Very distantly, he remembered being tortured by a Russian woman back in World War II who had said that ‘men respond to pain, women not so much so’. 

The Winter Soldier had figured out what made women talk. He was going to get his information one way or another. 

He would have been lying if he said he didn’t like the taste of her skin. He tried to separate himself from the situation, to focus for a moment, to get his information, but the alcohol – having been drunk on an empty stomach – clouded his thoughts. Bucky was thoroughly buzzed on vodka. Most definitely turned on, the soldier’s body temperature skyrocketed. His crotch, in particular, was hot and he could feel a hard on coming on. 

His eyes closed, Bucky kissed a trail along Murphy’s jaw line as he continued to tease his metal hand just below her shorts. He began to wonder if she was wearing panties. His right hand still fiercely gripped Murphy’s wrists; his victim’s hands were beginning to fall asleep. 

Bucky kissed Murphy’s lips a few times – lightly. He was being a dirty, fucking tease. 

“You wanna rethink that?” he murmured against Murphy’s lips. “Huh, baby? I think you know something about me…” Bucky and Murphy continued to stand in the corner of the motel room. Sergeant Barnes slowly began to part Murphy’s thighs with his left knee. 

****  
**Murphy** Sprocketgasmask 10/22/2014  
Lips that soft should have been fucking illegal. Plump, filled with blood, and oh so very hot. They nearly burned with each press and Murphy couldn't help her body reacting. It felt phenomenal. So maybe her barely intoxicated state was helping to exaggerate. Maybe.

'If you stop' she thought 'I'll die. I'll just fucking DIE.'

So this was torture?  
Yeah, there were days where she thought things such as fighting and starving were torment. Things like freezing in the rain and no way to keep dry. That was what she considered torture. This, she couldn't handle this.

Then he had to go and spread her overly heated legs with his own hot thigh.

Murphy snapped.  
Those bright blue eyes glazed over all too quickly, tears threatening to spill at any given time at the rate they were building. 

"I… I….” She was reduced to panting, her core burning with an awful, painful throb. 

Wetting her own lips before nipping the inside of her cheek, she tried again to speak the answer. "I've been devoted since the comics. Since I learned how to read. Both you and Steve won me over a long time ago." Her hips were having a mind of their own as she confessed, body shaking like a girl admitting sins in a Catholic church. "You two were the only stable thing in my life." Murphy inhaled deeply, wanting that smoke more than ever. "Then, I hit puberty and that's all she wrote."

It was almost shameful the way she felt at that moment. Turned on, nervous, embarrassed. This was torture at its best.

Taking a moment to gather her wits, she rolled those eyes to the ceiling and stuttered. "I-i didn't know you were real until today. That was as close as I ever thought I'd get to you and Steve.  
At least, in my fucked up logic, you two were mine and would always be with me."

If he didn't do something soon, she was sure her heart would explode.

*******

**Bucky** TilTheEndOfTheLinePal 10/22/2014

Somehow, someway Bucky, though now hopelessly drunk, managed to hang onto every single word Murphy nervously uttered in her heartfelt confession. His unblinking gaze focused solely on Murphy’s sweet lips as she spoke, as if that would somehow make everything fall into place. 

His mind furiously worked on the idea that he was a comic book hero come to life. Or, that his life had been captured in the black-lined, red-blue-yellow pages dating back to World War II. Yet, there he was… 70 years after his supposed demise in the war. And, there she – Murphy – was… This beautiful dame who loved him and adored him. Just as he was. 

Bucky’s raging hormones pushed aside his failing attempt to comprehend it all. He mercifully let go of Murphy’s wrists, simultaneously roughly pressing his cold metal hand against her, feeling her up as if she were some naughty prostitute. Maybe, Bucky should have had more tact, but he was overwhelmingly horny. It was no secret that he was thinking with his dick.  
After a lengthy, hot, and rough kiss, Bucky pressed his entire body against Murphy’s, trapping her against the corner of the motel room. “Good answer, doll,” he breathed heavily. He was panting as well – hot and heavy – little moans escaping his lips occasionally. 

Most definitely, the scorching room temperature, the hormones, and the alcohol caught up to him. The Winter Soldier’s eyes rolled back a little as he stumbled back one small step. “Oh, my god, I want you…” he admitted, completely serious and completely honest. 

Sergeant Barnes ran a hand over his long brown hair, now saturated with sweat. Eyes halfway closed, he licked his lips, completely aware of how hard his heart hammered in his chest. 

“I want you,” Bucky repeated himself, his voice gravelly. “Now.” 

It was more of a command than a request. 

******

**Murphy** Sprocketgasmask 10/22/2014

Electricity. That was the closest her mind could come to comparison. Like when she was five and jammed a metal fork into an electrical outlet. Every single nerve ending felt as though she had shocked herself and they were now melting into a gooey heap of overly sensitive flesh.

"Oh fuck!" Murphy cursed, eyes going wide, legs feeling too weak to support her own weight.

Never actually having the experience of cool metal palming her in a downright dirty manner, she found the sensation to be damn near as erotic as his tongue.

That tongue. The mental image plastered itself over every single surface in her mind. 

She had to dominate.

Pushing up from the corner, back just a bit sore from the groove, she pressed an open mouth against his own. It was nice to catch those lips parted and boy did she take full advantage. 

Bucky was wet, hot, bitter-tasting, and tearing down any bit of restraint she had left. He wanted her? That was doable.

Murphy rolled her hips against his hand, groaning rather loudly as she began to suckle his tongue, lips working to keep a decent hold. She mimicked what her imagination wanted with his dick.

His tongue was sucked upon in a manner that had obscenely wet noises bouncing to smack into her own ears.

With red hot cheeks and a wet center, she was ready for anything. 

Pulling away just enough so his tongue popped free, she growled against his mouth, "Hurry up, Sergeant. Or did you forget what it's like to have a girl chokin' on your dick?"

Tact, she had plenty. This was quickly unfolding into a battle of wits. Which she was damned sure he would win.

**********  
**Bucky** TilTheEndOfTheLinePal 10/22/2014

Sergeant Barnes growled deeply. He felt as if he was going to lose his fucking mind right then and there. Murphy knew exactly how to push The Winter Soldier. He loved aggression in sex. Baring his teeth, he pulled Murphy’s grey tank top over her head and tossed it aside. He grinned a little – wickedly – noting her neon green bra. 

“Are these damn things as hard to unhook as they were back in the war?” he asked, running the fingertips of his flesh hand along one bra strap. 

He wanted an answer from Murphy, sure, to his question, but Bucky was absolutely and impossibly impatient. Apparently there was ‘no time’ to take off his own clothing. Every article of clothing he wore was horribly heavy, from his boots to his black cargo pants, black leather jacket, and HYDRA-issued weapons – still strapped to his body. In his mind, the notion that he was still fully clothed while Murphy was practically naked was deliciously dirty. 

Bucky dramatically increased the heavy-handedness of naughtily feeling Murphy up with his cool metal hand. His erection was becoming awfully painful, his entire body intensely craving an orgasm. Bucky had no fucking clue when the last time he came was. 

Though every fiber of his body screamed at him for release, Bucky was still somehow considerate enough to want Murphy to climax multiple times. Bucky’s sexuality was questionable – he was probably bisexual, he thought – but he had enough sense to know how to take care of a woman. 

The Sergeant harshly pulled Murphy close, right against his body, and began a deep, dark kiss, his eyes fluttering closed. His metal hand didn’t have much feeling, so he was flying blind, but he tried his hardest to please his adoring, charming, and sexy comic book fan. 

Finally, with a gasp, he broke the lengthy kiss and said seductively, “Will you come for me, doll? Huh?” He kissed her ear. “Please, baby, please come for me…” 

*****  
**Murphy** Sprocketgasmask 10/23/2014

Whenever women talked about seeing stars and having their vision lined with white light, Murphy would roll her eyes and simply tag out of the conversation. 

She never believed a word about an orgasm being so intense. 

Apparently, she was bedding the wrong humans from the get-go.

The wound up coil between her thighs snapped almost painfully, muscles tensing up and quickly setting straight into an intense spasm. To be honest, it had been so long since she had one to begin with, it hurt until that white light clouded her vision and she couldn't help but to dig her nails into his jacket and sob his name. "James!" Her voice cracked at the very end, air rushing past her swollen lips in a huff.

The satiated state did not last long. It took one good look into those intense blue eyes and everything ran back to the beginning. 

"Bucky…” she whined softly. "Y-you gotta do somethin' before I lose it." 

******

**Bucky** TilTheEndOfTheLinePal 10/23/14

Losing all shred of control, Bucky completely lost it upon hearing Murphy cry out his name. It was being called ‘James’, specifically, that conjured up some deep, dark emotion in his head. A confusing mix of nostalgia, joy, and carnal lust coursed violently through his very veins. 

Bucky wordlessly and harshly grabbed Murphy’s shoulders, spun her around, and bent her over the worn motel table. Alcohol bottles and shot glasses were haphazardly displaced to the carpet, but surprisingly didn’t crack. Bucky’s metal hand pulled down Murphy’s revealing black shorts; if there had been panties, they would have come down, too. 

Still completely dressed, Bucky fumbled with the zipper of his black cargo pants and pulled out his throbbing cock. There was no more foreplay, no more witty banter. The Winter Soldier fucked Murphy hard, deep, and fast. Though he wanted to fuck for hours, his sex-deprived body wouldn’t remotely let him last for all that long. 

Bucky came hard in Murphy, filling her completely, a stream of horrendously dirty curse words – worthy of an Army sergeant – flowed freely from his lips. 

After Bucky climaxed, he became deathly silent. He pulled his relieved cock out of Murphy, tucked himself back into his pants, and zipped himself up again. Spent. Completely spent, Bucky turned away from Murphy and leaned heavily against the nearest motel wall, still managing to stand somehow. He ran both of his hands into his long hair and closed his eyes. 

Sergeant Barnes shut down for a short while, hopelessly locked in a dark corner of his mind. 

***** 

***Murphy*** Sprocketgasmask 10/23/14  
In all her twenty plus years of life, Murphy had never been taken in such a violent fashion. 

From the very moment Bucky pushed inside, throbbing warmth and punishing hips, she knew damn well a switch had been flipped.

There was a complete change in his demeanor and she wished there was more time to figure it out.

That required thinking and there would be none of that as her body was slammed into the rickety 'kitchen' table. 

The fronts of her thighs hit the wooden edge with each push and she just knew there would be bruises covering her black and white gas mask tattoo.  
Murphy wasn't able to get off, no matter how many times that swollen head of his beat against her cervix. She was too shocked by how he outright fucked her. There were no complaints; she took what he was willing to give. 

Wishing for more was just about useless.  
When the Sergeant detached himself and slid away, Murphy found that movement was difficult. Her thighs shook and the very core of her body protested, muscles constricting painfully. To be stretched to that point and left empty was pretty damned frustrating to begin with.

Carefully plucking up a loose cigarette, lighter carefully balanced on the edge of the table, she practically stumbled to the worn mattress. 

The blanket was scratchy against her bared figure, shorts left in a mess on the floor, and she could only find it in herself to utter a half-assed question. "Ya alright?"

It only took three tries to light the smoke and she whined when her knees made contact with the carpet. That new tattoo smarted so much at that moment. 

Naked as the day she was born, Murphy was past the point of shame. 

****  
***Bucky*** TilTheEndOfTheLinePal 10/23/14

Bucky blinked repeatedly and took in a few deep breaths before offering his hand – the metal one – to Murphy. It was maddeningly difficult to understand The Winter Soldier’s labyrinth of a mind. Murphy hesitantly took Bucky’s metal hand; he helped her up from the floor. Every movement he made now, from the few steps towards Murphy to assisting her onto the motel mattress was gentle, slow, and fluid. 

Definitely caught off guard, Murphy, seated on the mattress, watched the soldier as he crawled onto the bed and lay down on his side. Bucky carefully – so, so oddly carefully – grasped Murphy’s free hand (her other hand held a lit cigarette) and ran it into his long hair. The soldier was silently begging – desperately pleading with all of his heart – for Murphy to please – please, god, please – comfort him. 

Shocked, sorrowful tears formed in Murphy’s eyes as she tenderly ran her hand through Bucky’s thick hair over and over again. The Winter Soldier’s eyes involuntarily closed as he sighed heavily. He lay on the side that had one of his holstered handguns; it definitely hurt – digging into his side – but Bucky was out cold moments later, no longer giving a shit about the feel of the gun. 

Murphy thoughtfully smoked her cigarette, her free hand still thickly embedded in Bucky’s hair. As the thick blanket of night closed in, she eventually fell asleep next to her comic book hero. 

As subdued dawn sunlight filtered through the motel room’s blinds the next morning, the only shred of evidence remaining of James Buchanan Barnes was one World War II metal Army dog tag and a note (ripped from a notepad boasting the motel’s logo), written in perfect blocky letters that only read:

‘I will find you again. I promise.’ 

******* 

Songs We Listened To Whilst Writing  
(We do not own these songs. All credit to the artists.)  
M - Murphy, B - Bucky 

(M) “The Ghost of You” – My Chemical Romance  
(B) “Moonlight Serenade” –Glenn Miller  
(M) “Stunner” –Scroobius Pip  
(B) “Cold” –Crossfade  
(M) “The Jesus of Suburbia” –Green Day  
(M) “How Deep is the Ocean” Julie London  
(B) "The Crow and The Butterfly" by Shinedown  
(M) “Tear You Apart” by She Wants Revenge  
(M) “The Pot” by Tool  
(M) “My Confession” – Otep


End file.
